The Game is On
by Princessintoe
Summary: An AU in which Sherlock and friends are living in America at the time of 9/11. I understand this subject is touchy. I did a lot of research on this and I hope you like it. With that being said if this story is going to bother you or if this is a trigger for you, DO NOT READ! I mean it.


This is an AU where Sherlock is in America during 9/11.

If the events of 9/11 are triggers for you, please, do not read! As much as I love you guys reading my work I don't want anyone to be negatively affected by it. I cried writing this and I hope you love it. It really makes me sad. If I missed something please let me know.

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Sherlock Holmes walked into his cubicle and sat down. He hated this meaningless work that was required to function in America. He had graduated from secondary school and quickly fled London. He had some ghosts from his past days of substance abuse and need a speed getaway. He moved to New York and got a job working in a low profile job in the World Trade Center. His mind was bored yet he was free from all the binds of his addictions.

When he moved to New York he had met some interesting people. A fellow Londoner, John Watson, worked in the cubicle next to him. Instead of telling him to "Sod off" or "Shut the fuck up", John would praise him. His face would light up when he would tell off Sally Donovan or state to Anderson about him cheating on his wife. Then there was Molly Hooper. She was from London as well. She worked in the cubicle in front of him. She would shyly peek over and ask him for coffee. He always knew she was asking him out on a date, but he knew if he were to get romantically involved with someone in America that something was bound to happen. He knew there would be a point where he would have to leave or his past would catch up to him. He couldn't put a nice girl like Molly through something like that.

When he stepped into the elevator that day he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. As the elevator doors were closing a slender white hand popped through the crack. Molly's shaking form stood in front of the elevator. She wedged herself in the back corner and eyed him across all the other heads. He turned his head and gave her a quick once over. She had a high fever and her eyes were glassy. Her nose was read from blowing it often. She was really sick. She should probably have stayed at home.  
They rode the elevator up to the 100th floor, with everyone finally leaving around the ninety fifth floor. When it was just he two of them, he turned to her. She huddled further back into the corner and let out the most horrific cough he had ever heard.

"You should probably go home, Molly." He whispered. A flash of hurt crossed her face at the misreading of his words. As he opened his mouth to clarify the elevator doors opened and she quickly flew past him. God, did he always have to say the wrong thing. He rolled his eyes back and groaned. He looked down at his watch and sighed. 9:00, already? He needed to get to work or his boss would rip into his ass.

9:03am

He was walking towards his cubicle when he felt and heard the most horrific crash. It shook the building. He had never felt an earthquake before and wondered if this was the infamous creature. But he thought there weren't any earthquakes in New York. He ran to the window and looked out with all the other workers. The side of the building was smoking and he could see people on the ground. He was always amazed at how small they were, but today they looked like frightened ants, running away from a fire.  
All at once the phones began to ring. He looked around and the emotions flowed from everyone. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, strictly out of curiosity. Mycroft, his brother, was calling him. Something must be extremely important as Mycroft usually texted.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" He heard his brother take a deep breath in and let out a shaky one in its place.

"Sherlock, dear brother. I would like to apologize, for everything. I… I was wrong to not protect you here in London. You should've stayed here. Now your…" Mycroft couldn't continue.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, pressing his hand against the window.

Mycroft cleared his throat, "Sherlock you are going to die. There has been a terrorist attack on the building where you are currently flittering your time away." That was the crash. "Anyone above the crash site is unfortunately unsaveable. So that means you, John, Molly, Lestrade, and all of your other friends will not be saved." Sherlock sat down, and pressed the back of his head against the window.

"I am sorry too, Mycroft. I have been a terrible little brother. You have been exemplary and I want to apologize for my ill-fated choices and reactions to your help. Sentiment is a chemical found on the losing side, you would always tell me. Well, Mycroft, I believe there is some truth to that statement as I have already lost." Sherlock began to cry. He didn't want to die, but the acceptance of that fact, has rocked him to the core. Mycroft and he were never the type of people to say I love you, but the silence on the other end said it all.

With a couple more breaths Sherlock hung up. Knowing he would never speak to Mycroft again. Sherlock sat against the window for a couple more minutes, attempting to regain his composure. Finally, when his face was dry and he could successfully hold back his tears he got up and went to his little four corner cubicle. John was staring ahead at the wall, barely even blinking. Molly was crying silently into her hands. He stood looking at his friends who were residing in his cubicle. As he entered they both turned to look at him with shining hope in their eyes. He simply shook his head.

9:20am

John stood up and looked him in the eye and Sherlock knew. Sherlock knew that John was afraid. He knew that John was going to hug him. He knew that there world was going to come to an end and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

John hugged Sherlock and sobbed. Molly sobbed even harder. Sherlock left John's embrace and sought out Molly. He needed to let her know. He needed to tell her that…  
"Sherlcock?" He was interrupted by the voice of his boss, Greg Lestrade. His face was hollow and wet from crying. He knew what Lestrade was going to ask, and by the state of him he knew the answer.

"I'm afraid not Greg. Mycroft cannot possibly get anyone up here. I apologize." Sherlock gave him a pat on the back as another friend entered into his tiny cubicle. And there they sat. The strong friend, the crying boss, the stoic rock, and his crying love.

He had to admit that he loved Molly Hooper. He had to tell her before they all met their demise. Yet, he couldn't do it in front all his friends. He had to do it by himself. He had to show her how much he loved her. How much he wished he would have loved her sooner.

He looked over to her. Her shoulders were no longer shaking but her crying was evident. She was breathing shakingly and her knees were bouncing up and down, trying to gain some semblance of control. He walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk next to Molly. He reached out his hand and set it on her back, rubbing small circles.

Her knee stopped bouncing and she looked up at him. Her eyes were dead. There was nothing there except for stray tears. His heart broke with every second that passed. He needed to tell her.

"Molly? Can I talk to you? Alone, please?" He said. Not once breaking eye contact. Her eyebrows furrowed and she backed away from his touch. He saw something come to life in her eyes. But it wasn't good. He saw fear and confusion. He saw hesitation. He knew she was still angry but the level of fear in her eyes scared him.  
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the cubicle. He could feel the looks of Lestrade and John pulsing towards him, yet he didn't care. He just needed to tell Molly. Tell her everything.

He pulled her past crying coworkers and huge windows. He looked away from where he was going to glance out the window. He saw debris and larger objects falling. As one larger object went by he stopped dead in his tracks. As Molly slammed into him the first cry from the office was heard. There were bodies falling from the floors above. Some were holding hands, some were completely still, and others were flailing as if they were pushed.

After a couple of minutes, Sherlock blinked for the first time. He felt his breathing become more and more erratic. The only thing that kept him from screaming out or passing out was the feel of Molly's hand go limp in his. She had passed out. He leaned down and picked her up, making sure there was no damage done. He looked at her peaceful form, wishing she could stay that way until the building collapsed, until their lives were over.

9:35am

Sherlock carried Molly into one of the vacated offices and cleared off the desk. He gently laid Molly down, tucking his suit jacket under her head. He reached over and closed the blind of the giant window that covered a third of the wall. He did not want to see any more deaths today. He sat and thought of the words to come and he was frightened. For the first time in his life he had no idea what to say or how to say it. He loosened his tie and stood up. He thought it was absurd, that as the world that he knew was coming to an end , all that he could think about was how to tell the one person that mattered the most that he loved her.  
He turned circles in his mind palace, his place where he would go when he was deep in thought or just wanted to tune out the world, until a stirring on the table brought him out of his trance. He looked over to see Molly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She looked over and nearly fell backwards off the desk.

"Sherlock? What the bloody hell are you doing here? I had the most terrible dream. We were at work and someone ran a plane into…" Her eyes grew large and her body tensed up. "Dear God… It wasn't a dream, was it?" Molly then dissolved into sobs. Sherlock hurried over to her, and gathered her in his arms. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. He hugged her to his chest and rocked her like a child.  
"Ssshhhh Molly. Sssshhh. It's all right. I love you. It's all right." He felt a jerk on his chin and looked down at Molly. She was looking up at him, confusion clouding her lovely brown eyes.

"Did you just…" She pulled away from him and made to stand. He pulled her closer and kept her tight to his chest.

"Yes I did. Molly Hooper. I. Love. You. With all my heart. I am sorry I didn't realize it before now but I didn't have to think of that before now. I knew that if I fell in love with you something would hurt you, or something bad would happen to me and I couldn't live with that. I couldn't live seeing pain in your eyes and hurt in your heart. You are what I need to survive and I can tell you need me too. I apologize for all the hurt that I have caused you. I know I don't deserve someone as magnificent as you, but I hope our last minutes together will be… together. Molly I…" Suddenly he was silenced by a soft pair of lips crushing onto his. He stared down at her but then realized that this is what he wanted. He wanted her.

9:50am

Their mouths moved in perfect unison. Molly brushed her tongue along the line of his lips and he let her in. His tongue melded with hers in a delicate tango. Her hands came up and wrapped around his face, swiping away a stray tear he didn't even know had fallen. His hands pulled her closer towards him. His arms spoke love to her body, while her lips did the same. He pulled away from her kiss for a second to look at her. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Love shown deep into her eyes and the same in his. He whispered his lips against hers and smiled.  
"We should probably get back. We should be with everyone when IT happens." Tears began to fill both of their eyes as reality set back in. Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and ran his thumb over the top. He gave her a knowing nod and they left the office together.

They walked down the hallway to the cubicle, holding hands. They ignored the fall outside and returned to their friends. John shot a questioning look to Sherlock, but he just shrugged and looked down at Molly and his intertwining hands. John nodded in understanding and went back to sitting on the desk. Lestrade was swiveling in Sherlock's chair. They all looked so normal. They felt the building move underneath them and they all looked up at each other.

9:59am

They all gathered around each other and grabbed a hand. They looked at each other and knew the end was near. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but the rumbling of the building overpowered his words. He raised his voice and shouted,  
"The game is on."


End file.
